Safe and Sound
by lumaluma
Summary: One night, Arthur learns that Alfred is afraid of thunderstorms. This leads to what may be the fluffiest, most lighthearted thing I have ever written. FACE family, pure fluff. Written because childhood flies past much faster than you ever expected.


_Pure, unadulterated, FACE family fluff. Because sometimes, you remember that your parents really do love you and want to thank them in your own weird way._

* * *

Arthur woke up when lightning flashed outside his window. He sighed, glaring at the closed curtains. Stupid sheer fabric. They didn't block out the lightning or the sounds of the thunder. He was about to roll over and try to go back to sleep when he heard small feet padding hurriedly down the hallway.

The bedroom door opened, and Alfred ran up to the bed, pulling on the bedsheets. "Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

Arthur sat up, running a hand through his hair. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Outside there's loud noises and light and I don't like it and-"

"Are you scared, love?" Alfred nodded, so Arthur held his arms open, scooping up his son. "Come here, Al." He settled Alfred on his lap. "It's all right, my sweet. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"But it's loud and scary!"

This was probably the first thunderstorm Alfred had ever heard, Arthur realised. He kissed Alfred on the top of the head. "My little love, listen to me. It's raining outside, and the clouds that brought that rain are very large, okay?"

"Okay." Alfred nodded. Another flash of lightning, another boom, and Alfred clung to Arthur's shirt with a little squeak.

"Oh, my beautiful, sweet little baby…" Arthur held him closer, rocking him back and forth slightly. "It's all right, it can't hurt you. That bright light is because the clouds are rubbing together, okay? You know how you can see little sparks of light when you lift up your blankets during the night?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, that's what the bright lights are. Only the clouds are much bigger, so the sparks are much bigger as well. They're called lightning. And since they're so big, instead of making just a little crackling noise, they make a loud, booming noise, which is called thunder. But those sounds can't hurt you."

"They can't?"

"Not at all, dearest boy. I know they're loud and scary, but trust me, you're safe. They're just noises."

Alfred looked up at Arthur, eyes wide. "You mean it?"

"Of course I do. And even if they were dangerous, I'd protect you. I'll always keep you safe. You're the apple of my eye, my little baby. I won't ever let anyone or anything hurt you." He pressed another kiss to his son's hair. "Now, do you want me to sing to you?"

"Yes, please." Alfred nodded, so Arthur settled back against the headboard, holding Alfred against his chest.

"Now… what do you want me to sing to you tonight?"

"Can you sing the one about the poor guy?"

Arthur chuckled, brushing Alfred's hair out of his eyes. "If that's what you want, darling." He cleared his throat, beginning to sing. "I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told. I have squandered my resistance for a pocket full of mumbles, such are promises. All lies and jests, still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest…"

When the song was over, Alfred had started to doze off again, so Arthur stood, picking Alfred up and carrying him back down the hall to his room. Alfred looked up at Arthur sleepily. "You promise the… the thunder can't hurt me?"

"I promise, my love. You're safe and sound here, nothing can hurt you." He lay Alfred back down on his bed, tucking him in. "There we go. Snug as a bug in a rug."

"Nice and safe and warm," Alfred whispered, and Arthur smiled.

"Indeed you are." He kissed Alfred on the top of the head.

"Daddy?"

That wasn't Alfred. Arthur looked over to see his other son, Matthew, was up as well, standing in the doorway. Arthur stood up. "What is it, baby?"

"I couldn't sleep because of the storm." He was carrying a plastic cup full of water.

"Well, come on back to bed. The storm's going to be gone soon." Matthew took a sip of his water before setting it on the bedside table and climbing back into bed. Arthur tucked him in as well. "And don't worry about the storm, love."

"I know. I heard you talking to Al."

"Good." Arthur kissed Matthew on the forehead, then bent over Alfred and did the same. "Now, good night, sleep tight, sweet dreams. I'll see you in the morning, my little ones."

He left the room, closing the door behind him very quietly.

"That was very sweet."

Arthur looked over his shoulder to see Francis standing in the hallway. He rolled his eyes. "Of course you're awake. Did you see…?"

Francis nodded, smiling at Arthur. "All of it."

Arthur looked away, a little embarrassed. "I'm going back to bed."

"Wait one moment, you." Francis stepped up behind Arthur, wrapping his arms around his husband's chest and resting his chin on Arthur's shoulder. "I always knew you'd make a wonderful father." He kissed Arthur on the cheek.

Arthur shrugged, resting his hand on Francis' arm. "I'm not all _that_ great," he murmured, but Francis shook his head.

"The boys adore you more than anyone else." Francis pressed another kiss to Arthur's cheek.

"I don't know about that. They love you too."

"But of course they do! Who _couldn't _love me?" Francis chuckled when Arthur rolled his eyes. "You know, when they're obnoxious teenagers, we can look back on these moments and remember why we love the two of them."

"As long as we don't think about the times they threw up on us when they were babies. Honestly, they puked on us, and we _kept_ them."

"That's love," Francis said with a smile. "It's worth it, isn't it?"

"Oh, certainly." Arthur leaned back into Francis' arms slightly. "Remember when Matthew crawled into bed with us last Sunday morning?"

"Ah, yes. And he pushed you away and told you to stop hogging all of my cuddles."

They laughed softly, holding onto each other. Arthur turned around and kissed Francis, running a hand through his hair gently. "Come on," he murmured, "Let's go back to bed. We can make more memories in the morning."

* * *

_Yes, Arthur was singing Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer". My dad used to sing that song to my sister and me when we were little. I guess I'm getting a little nostalgic for the days when my biggest responsibility was brushing my teeth properly._

_Reviews are greatly appreciated!_


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